


What Hurts Worst

by orderlychaos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape, Clint and Phil are being held by HYDRA, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Torture, interrogations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 07:24:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/910498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> It had been two days since Phil had woken up in the cold, bleak cell strung up in chains bolted to the ceiling.  He’d been stripped of everything aside from a tattered pair of combat pants, as if the indignity of being almost naked was something Phil cared about.  So far his captors hadn’t been all that creative with their interrogation methods, but Phil wasn’t stupid enough to believe they wouldn’t be.  The last two days of beatings and frequent use of cattle prods were just a way of softening Phil up for what was coming. </i>
</p>
<p>Phil has been captured by HYDRA.  So has Clint.  And things are about to get worse.</p>
<p>(There is a happy ending to this, I swear).</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Hurts Worst

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yakkorat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yakkorat/gifts).



> Warning for an attempted rape by HYDRA thugs. Clint and Phil are also beaten and tortured, although some of it occurs off screen. The rape is stopped before it's more than an attempt, but please be careful.
> 
> This is darker than what I usually write, but there is a happy ending.

The splash of ice cold water jolted Phil Coulson back to consciousness.

His instinctive jerk at the freezing water made Phil bite back a groan of pain as it wrenched his already painful and abused shoulders.  Coughing a little at the bitter, foul-tasting liquid, Phil raised his head to stare at his captors, trying to keep his face as expressionless as possible.  These men weren’t amateurs.  They knew how to use every small flinch and wince against him and Phil _refused_ to give them the satisfaction of that.

It had been two days since Phil had woken up in the cold, bleak cell strung up in chains bolted to the ceiling.  He’d been stripped of everything aside from a tattered pair of combat pants, as if the indignity of being almost naked was something Phil cared about.  So far his captors hadn’t been all that creative with their interrogation methods, but Phil wasn’t stupid enough to believe they wouldn’t be.  The last two days of beatings and frequent use of cattle prods were just a way of softening Phil up for what was coming.

There was one bright point in the situation Phil found himself in, however, and Phil clung to it.  Clint wasn’t there.  He was safely out of the reach of the men holding Phil and for that he was infinitely thankful.  If there was one thing Phil knew, it was that it didn’t matter what happened to him as long as Clint was safe.

At the screech of the heavy metal cell door opening, Phil shifted his gaze from the two thugs standing over him.  The woman who stepped into the room was dressed immaculately from the tips of her black heels to the elegant twist of her blonde hair.  Phil wasn’t fooled.  He knew who she was and what she was capable of.  HYDRA tended to employ people that enjoyed their work.  Phil watched her walk over to him and didn’t flinch when the door slammed heavily behind her.  He kept the wince from his face when she gripped his chin in between her leather-gloved fingers and yanked his face towards hers.

“Hello Agent Coulson,” she said.

Phil didn’t reply.

“Are you ready for another session?” the woman asked.

Phil didn’t reply to that either.

With a frown the woman stepped back and motioned to the two thugs.  Pain flared across Phil’s cheek as one of the thugs back-fisted him across the face hard enough that Phil tasted blood on his tongue.  The second thug drove his fist into Phil’s stomach, sending his body swinging from the chains.  Phil gritted his teeth and forced back the cry that rose in his throat, refusing to give and in and voice it.  The blows continued to rain down, always from a different angle to keep the pressure on Phil’s shoulders.  His whole body flared with pain and it took almost all of Phil’s will to hold back the grunts when the thugs started in on his kidneys.  Someone kicked him in the stomach, and then another to his ribs.  One of the earlier beatings had cracked at least one of Phil’s ribs and he couldn’t hold in his pained cry at the blow.  Fire screamed through him as his ribs screamed with agony, blurring his vision.

“So you can scream,” the woman purred and when Phil blinked his vision clear again, she was standing right in front of him.  She reached out with a gloved hand to stroke his bruised cheek and inwardly, Phil cringed.  “So stubborn,” she said.

Even knowing it would only lead to more pain, Phil spat the blood from his mouth in defiance, hitting the woman squarely on the cheek.  He was rewarded with another back-fist that was hard enough to snap his head to the side.  Calmly, the woman pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the blood from her skin.  “It takes a lot of pain to break you, doesn’t it, Agent Coulson?” she said, her cold eyes fixed on Phil.  “We could keep going like this for weeks before it gets the results I want.”

The mild tone disturbed Phil more than any amounts of threats ever could; it was the tone of someone _willing_ to spend weeks beating Phil for information if that’s what it took.  The woman cocked her head to the side and smile in a way that sent a shiver of fear down Phil’s spin.  “I guess it’s just as well that we have another option, now isn’t it?” she said almost conversationally.  “You’re willing to suffer through so much of your own pain, but are you willing to watch a friend suffer the same fate?”

Phil’s heart started pounding with fear in his chest and he struggled to keep it from his face.  The woman glanced at one of the thugs and made a sharp motion.  “Bring in the other one,” she ordered and the words made Phil’s blood turn to ice.

_No_.

“I wonder,” the woman said, circling around Phil as she trailed a leather-clad finger over his skin.  “How cooperative will you be if you have to stare into the eyes of one of your fellow agents with the knowledge that you’re the only one who can make the pain stop?  What do you think, Agent Coulson?  If I make him scream with agony, do you think I can finally get you to crack?”

_She was just trying to break him_.

The woman’s smile grew.  “You didn’t know did you?” she said.  “You thought he got away.”

_No.  It wasn’t possible._

Phil struggled to slow his pounding heart as he watched one of the thugs drag in a metal chair and bolt it to the floor above the drain sunk into the stained concrete.  He needed to get his reactions back under control because right now he was giving far too much away.  The mere thought of it being Clint that was about to be dragged in -- of Clint being the other agent they’d caught -- was edging to close to breaking Phil’s continued silence.

“Oh, Agent,” the woman said with a cold smile.  “This is going to be fun.”

*

They’d stuck him in a chair this time.

Clint Barton recognised the cold of the metal as he weaved in and out of consciousness, his pain-filled brain trying to work out what was happening.  His sense of time wasn’t too good anymore, but Clint was fairly sure they’d been beating him on and off for about a day now, although this was the first time they’d cuffed him to a chair to do it.  His whole body was black and purple with bruises and he could feel the dried blood on his skin from the cuts his beatings had opened.  Hell, his face alone was probably swollen beyond all recognition, but Clint took satisfaction in the fact that he’d managed to get loose three times already and although he’d gotten less and less far with each attempt, he’d managed to get in a few hits of his own before they’d taken him down.

He’d take whatever else this bitch and her cronies threw at him too.

He jerked at the touch of cold fingers on his chin, the gentle touch unexpected after the rough hands that had dragged him into the room and cuffed him to the chair.  “I need you to see this, little bird,” the HYDRA interrogator said; Clint didn’t remember her name, but he remembered her face and the cold look in her eyes.

“ _Look_ at him, little bird,” the woman snapped, violently forcing Clint’s chin up and holding it in place so he couldn’t turn away.  “And let him look at you.”

Blinking away the pain, it took Clint’s eyes a moment to focus and when they did, he almost wished his vision was still hazy.  _Phil_ was there, hanging from chains in the middle of the room like a piece of meat.  The shackles around his wrists were bordered by purple bruises and dried blood, as if he’d fought to get out of them and his arms were chained above his head, forcing his shoulders to painfully bear his whole weight.  Clint could see the way Phil’s body bore the marks of days of torture, cuts and welts interspersed on his skin between the bruises and burns.  When Clint raised his eyes to Phil’s face, those familiar blue eyes were staring back at him and for a moment, Clint saw the look of soul-deep _fear_ reflected in them.

Clint didn’t even realise he’d been straining against his cuffs until the woman’s low chuckle registered.  “Oh, _yes_ ,” she said.  “This is definitely going to be fun.”

His stomach rebelled, but Clint swallowed the nausea down and gritted his teeth.  He couldn’t let this bitch see how scared he was, because he had to be strong if she was going to use his pain against Phil.  Forcing himself to relax back against the chair, he shot her a defiant look.  He could deal with pain.  He’d done it before.

“Don’t worry, Coulson,” the woman continued as she circled around behind Clint.  “Hawkeye tried.  He threw away his gear like a good boy and tried to pretend he was just a little grunt of no importance when we grabbed him.  He just forgot, like you did, that HYDRA is well aware of who our enemies are and what their faces look like.”

Those cold fingers stroked down Clint’s cheek and he jerked away before he could stop himself.  The woman laughed again.  “Oh, he’s not quite as good as you, is he, Coulson?” she said.  Those cold eyes flicked to Clint.  “It took me two days to make our dear Agent Coulson scream.  Do you think you can hold out that long, Hawkeye?”

“Bring it, bitch,” Clint challenged, because if he could keep the woman’s attention on him, she wouldn’t hurt Phil.

Anger flashed across the woman’s expression and she was suddenly there in front of Clint, her hand yanking his head up painfully by his hair so Clint had no choice but to look at her.  She was so close that he could feel her breath on his skin as she spoke.  “You have no idea how much pain I can bring to bear on you, Hawkeye,” she growled.  “I will strip you down to your very _bones_ and I will do it _all_ while he watches. Every. Single. Second.”

Clint felt a shiver of icy fear go down his spine at the cold promise in her eyes.  Those cold, cold eyes glanced downwards and Clint could almost feel the icy touch of them slide down his naked chest.  It made his stomach twist, but he clenched his teeth against the feeling.  “He’s a pretty one, isn’t he, Coulson?” the woman said, abruptly letting go of her painful grip in Clint’s hair.  “I think I might have fun with that later, but for now…”

She slid those cold fingers down Clint’s naked arm to his right hand where it lay on the armrest of the chair.  She took hold of his index finger.  Clint bit back a surge of fear.  “It strikes me that you might need a little proof to see how serious I am, Coulson,” she said calmly.

With a smile, the woman jerked back her hand.  Clint grunted with pain as his finger broke, strangling the cry in his throat.  Pain lanced up his arm to his shoulder.  “Shall I break another one?” the woman asked.  “Or do you get my point?”

Her hand grabbed another of Clint’s fingers as he panted with both pain and fear.  He needed his hands for his bow.  It wasn’t the first time Clint had broken a finger, but it always scared him when he did, because he _needed_ to be able to shoot his bow.

“I get it,” Phil said, his voice rough and hoarse and Clint’s stomach lurched at the sound, because Phil’s voice sounded _wrecked_.  Like he’d been holding in the pain and the screams.  Yet, he was speaking, just so he could save Clint’s fingers.  “I get the point.”

Clint wanted to tell him not to do it.  Meeting Phil’s blue eyes, Clint tried to tell him to shut up, to keep silent because not even his fingers were worth it.  Clint’s ability to shoot bows was nothing compared to what HYDRA would do if they got their hands on any of SHIELD’s secrets.  Hell, Clint’s continued ability to _breathe_ didn’t mean much in comparison.  Pain was nothing.

The woman gave a delighted laugh.  “He speaks!” she said.  “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten how, Agent.”  She glanced between Phil and Clint for a moment.  “I think I’m going to let you boys think that over for a while.”

She trailed her hand back up Clint’s arm.  “Just remember, boys,” she said, her voice suddenly going hard and cold.  “If you don’t cooperate, I’m going to have to get _creative_ with my punishments.”

She was gone before her comment fully sank in.

And then Clint shivered.

*

Helplessly, Phil stared at the man in front of him.  For once, the thugs had left with the woman, leaving him and Clint alone in their cell.  Phil couldn’t stop the way his eyes immediately traced every bruise and cut on Clint’s skin the second they were alone; it was obvious from his appearance that he’d been beaten multiple times and the tired hesitancy in his movements proved he was in pain.  But he was whole and he was _alive_ and Phil couldn’t help the pure _relief_ that rushed through him, even knowing what was coming.

Phil wanted nothing more than to be out of the chains so he could gather Clint up in his arms and feel his heartbeat, but he couldn’t.  He had to remember to hide his weaknesses, even if it felt like his heart was bleeding out all over the floor.  It would have been nice to have one more kiss before he died.

The look in Clint’s eyes warmed the parts deep in his chest that the pain hadn’t touched yet.  It might not be a kiss, but it would do.  Clint opened his mouth to speak, but Phil gave a sharp shake of his head, ignoring the pain the movement caused.

_No._

_Don’t show her your weaknesses_.

Clint glanced away for a moment, his eyes bright.  “You know,” Clint said, a moment later, his tone an attempt at his usual snark.  “HYDRA could really use a new interior decorator.”

Phil felt his lips twitch into a tiny smile before he could stop them.  That was so like Clint; ready with a quip and a smirk to hide the pain underneath.  Phil squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, feeling the burn of tears.  He’d known falling in love with his asset would have consequences, but he hadn’t known it would _hurt_ so much.  He’d trusted and fought beside Clint for long enough to know there was a large chance he’d die by the archer’s side, but this was a situation he just was not prepared for.  Phil had thought he had been, but it was a lie.  And he couldn’t show it.  He had to put his silence and SHIELD’s safety above Clint’s.

And Clint knew that.

Phil needed to stay strong.

Glancing towards the door, Phil stared at it for a long moment, before he glanced back at Clint.  Licking dry lips, Phil debated whether he _dared_.  He shouldn’t -- he knew that.  He should keep silent.  Words could be used against him, but the thought of Clint never knowing how Phil felt was suddenly too much for Phil to bear.  It hurt worse than anything his interrogator could inflict on him.  Catching and holding Clint’s gaze, Phil swallowed.  “Just like Thailand,” he rasped out, “and you know what happened there.”

For a moment, Clint looked confused.  Then his eyes went wide.  He opened his mouth, but he seemed speechless.  Phil smiled, grateful that Clint had understood what he was trying to say; Thailand had been a simple mission that had gone smoothly for once.  A mission where Clint and Phil had pretended to be a couple in love to trail after their target and maybe in the middle of an interrogation Phil wasn’t sure he was going to survive was the best time to tell Clint he loved him for the first time, but Phil couldn’t help feeling like this was the only time he’d be able to do it.

“ _Phil_ …” he breathed.

Then the door to the cell slammed open with a loud clang.  The woman walked in, her eyes wide and her smile cruelly gleeful.  For a moment, she just looked between Clint and Phil.  Phil immediately slammed down his mental defences and went expressionless as he saw Clint do the same, but it was too late.  She’d _seen_.

And, oh God, it was all Phil’s fault.

“Oh, _Coulson_ ,” she said.  The expression on her face turned Phil’s blood to ice and froze his heart in his chest.  “I was hoping you’d show me where the cracks were, but you… you just gave me _everything_.”

*

Clint was reeling.  He still couldn’t be sure what had just happened was _real_ , but from the moment of pure, stark _terror_ that flashed through Phil’s eyes, he was guessing it was.  Clint tried to hold his gaze and ignore what the woman was saying, but Phil wouldn’t meet his eyes.  Behind the woman, several large, heavily-muscled men filed in and slammed the door shut.  In that instant, Clint knew there was more pain to come.

Or worse.

“I hope Thailand was worth it, Coulson,” the woman said with an unnerving grin, before she turned dark, viciously hungry eyes on Clint.  “Because Hawkeye here is going to pay the price for it until you tell me every single thing I want to know.”

After the last two days, Clint was beaten and bruised, but all the same, as he looked at the woman and her goons, he felt the raw knowledge that he was never going to give the woman what she wanted.  Not matter what she did to him.

“Get him on his feet,” the woman ordered.  “Make sure you give Agent Coulson a good view of his face when you chain him up.”  She paused long enough to give Clint another one of those terrifying smiles.  “And get rid of his clothes.”

Clint froze, his heart pounding.  The most primitive part of his brain knew exactly what was about to happen.  Every particle in his body screamed out in denial at the thought.

Rough hands yanked Clint to his feet as a violent shiver went through him.  His heart was pounding against his ribs and he had to clench his jaw to keep the bile down.  As the thugs dragged him over to the second set of chains hanging from the ceiling, Clint began to fight.  He was not going to stand passively and let this happen -- to let _Phil see it happening_ \-- and he was going to fight with everything he had.  He scratched and bit, kicked and punched.  He managed to get one of his hands free and just as Clint was about to spin around and break one of the fuckers’ necks, fire erupted through his body.  His every muscle clenched in agony and Clint was vaguely aware that he cried out.  He couldn’t think for the pain running through him for a long minute and when he came back to himself, he was already hanging from the chains, even as his body still twitched.

“Cattle prods,” the woman said, holding up the one she’d just used to stun Clint.  “They’re so useful.  Did you enjoy that, Hawkeye?”

Through the haze of pain still sparking through him, Clint glared.  “Fuck… you, bitch,” he growled.

The woman laughed, her cold fingers trailing possessively down Clint’s chest.  “Oh, it’s not me who’s getting fucked,” she said.

Clint felt her cut away his pants and boxers.  He felt like he was going to throw up.  The woman stepped to the side and gestured to her thugs with the hand not resting on Clint’s chest.  Clint shuddered when he realised one of the thugs was already fingering his belt.  “Well, Coulson?” the woman said.  “Last chance.  Are you going to give me what I want?”

The cold hand on Clint’s chest began to drift lower.  He gritted his teeth, willing himself not to make a sound.  Instead, he looked up into Phil’s eyes because, _fuck_ , he needed that strength right now and as selfish as it was, he didn’t think he was able to look away and spare Phil whatever Phil was about to see in his eyes.  Clint kept his eyes locked with Phil’s as the woman continued trailing her hand in its long, slow path down his chest.  When those cold fingers reached his groin, Clint clenched his hands into fists and felt his nails bite into his palms.

The fear he could see in Phil’s eyes was almost enough to stop his heart.  Clint could see every single piece of love Phil felt for him in those familiar blue eyes and it broke Clint’s heart to see the look of helpless horror dawning on Phil’s face.  Clint forced himself to hold that gaze, begging Phil not to give up.

_No._

_Please._

_Don’t give her what she wants._

Clint was anchored by the blue eyes locked on his.  Keeping his gaze on Phil, he ignored the sounds of a buckle being undone behind him and the slide of a zipper.  He ignored the cold fingers of the woman’s other hand reached up to hold his chin as she looked over her shoulder.  “Is there anything you want to say to Hawkeye, Agent Coulson?” she said.

Phil’s eyes flashed with everything he wanted to say.  Clint saw the love, the despair and the rage burning deep within that gaze and it was enough.  “No?” the woman said.

The woman turned to face Clint and apparently that was the opportunity Phil had been waiting for.  He flicked his eyes quickly to the side, before they returned to Clint’s.  Clint blinked, but ultimately he trusted Phil with everything that he was, so he nodded slightly back.  Gripping his chin again, the woman jerked Clint’s face to look at hers.  “Do you know what I’m going to do to you now, Hawkeye?” she growled.

Clint gave her a cold grin in reply, right before he jerked his head back and head-butted her right in the face.  Her nose crunched as it broke.  With a scream of rage, she staggered backwards, her hands going to her face as she stared at him with a mix of shock and anger.  Clint just kept grinning back as he strained upwards, trying to use his muscles to pull at his chains.  “I am going to make you _scream_ for that!” the woman screeched.  “ _I’m_ the one with the power here!”

A second later, Clint felt one of the thugs smash him across the face.  Stars spun in front of his eyes, but Clint just gritted his teeth and held on.  One of the thugs grabbed Clint to hold him still as the woman, holding a rapidly-darkening handkerchief to her nose, stepped right into his face.  “You shouldn’t have done that,” she said.

Clint grinned again, knowing his teeth were stained with his own blood and revelling a little in the flicker of fear in her eyes.  “And you shouldn’t have taken your eyes off Phil,” he replied.

*

Phil grunted, his shoulders twisted at a very painful angle as he rotated his wrists a little more.  He was almost free.  He only needed one more second...

Grinning in relief as his chained hands slid out of the open link they’d been fixed through, holding his body off the ground, Phil sagged to his knees.  His abused muscles, both in his shoulders and his stomach, protested at the movement, but he ruthlessly ignored the pain.  Now was not the time.  The chains around his wrists rattled as Phil slipped out of them.  His wrists burned and trails of dried blood showed where the metal had bit into his.  His whole body throbbed, but Phil was alive and more or less mobile.

And now the woman was going to pay.

The woman moved to turn as one of the thugs began to shout, but Phil had rage on his side.  Surging up to his feet, Phil swung the chain between his shackles up and around, catching the woman around the throat.  Then he twisted and yanked his arms backwards with a vicious grin.  The woman’s hands reached up to claw at her throat as she choked.  The thugs were shouting, but none of them were wearing weapons.  One of them rushed in in an attempt to get Phil off his boss and Phil kicked out at him, but his legs didn’t obey properly.  He tripped and went down, the woman coming with him.  Phil landed on his back and pain flared in his cracked ribs.  Gritting his teeth, Phil ignored the agony and pulled the chains tighter around the woman’s throat.  Using the new leverage now that he was on the floor, Phil shoved a knee in the woman’s back and twisted.  The woman’s neck gave a sharp crack.

The thug caught Phil with a kick to his aching stomach before Phil could push the woman’s body away and regain his feet.  Phil grunted with pain and with a strength borne from desperation, kicked out with his feet.  The thug staggered back, gasping and crashed into a second.  Struggling back to his feet, Phil ignored the way his body blazed with pain and trembled with exhaustion and considered it a success when he remained standing.

While Phil had been dealing with the woman, Clint had been busy too.  Using his acrobatic skills and what Phil assumed was a fuckload of stubbornness, Clint had flipped himself almost upside down and unhooked his own chains and now dropped down to land in a slightly clumsy crouch beside Phil.  Normally, the sight of a naked Clint would have been a little distracting, but right now Phil was too light-headed with relief to care.

“You want the two on the left?” Clint asked him and Phil knew the smirk Clint flashed in his direction was supposed to be reassuring.

He didn’t get a chance to respond.  One of the thugs surged for the door, no doubt in an attempt to raise the alarm, but Phil wasn’t being stopped in his escape now.  He looked a little frantically around him for a weapon, before he spotted the small table the woman had been using to hold her favourite tools.  Snatching up the knife that she’d threatened to use on his balls, Phil threw the knife at the thug going for the door.  The thug fell to his knees on a choked gurgle.  The movement cost Phil as his body was wracked with pain in response.  He pushed through it, knowing he’d be dead if he paused for too long.  Phil turned to see what had happened to the other two thugs and felt another wave of relief when he saw Clint straightening from a crouch, the bodies of the two thugs at his feet.

“Clint,” Phil rasped when he realised that for the moment, they were _safe_.

With shaking hands, Clint reached out for him and Phil crossed the distance in an instant.  Phil slid his fingers carefully over Clint’s jaw, conscious of the bruises, before his thumb brushed Clint’s lower lip.  Phil felt his brain clamouring with a million things he needed to say; how much he loved Clint, how sorry he was, how he was supposed to be the one who protected Clint, but all the words stumbled to a halt in Phil’s throat at the look in Clint’s eyes.  “Fuck, Phil,” he said, reaching out to slid his own rough palms along Phil’s jaw.  Gently, Clint rested his forehead against Phil’s.  “I love you too, okay, _so much_ , but we have really got to work on your fucking timing.”

Phil gave a helpless laugh, because he couldn’t not, and then suddenly, Clint had wrapped his arms around him and was kissing him with every emotion Phil had seen running through those amazing eyes.  One of Clint’s arms slid around his waist, dragging him as close to him as he could possibly get, clinging to him as if Phil was the last thing in the world that could stop him drowning.  Phil clung back just as desperately.

Drawing back after a long moment, Clint tilted his head towards the door and smirked.  “Shall we get out of here?” he said.

“Yes,” Phil replied.  “ _Please_.”

*

Clint was definitely really to blow this joint.  Hopefully in the very literal sense if they could somehow manage it; not that Clint really doubted.  If there was a way, experience told him that Phil Coulson would find it and exploit it.  It was one of the many reasons Clint loved him and damn if that didn’t send a giddy feeling through his chest.  It was probably more than a little creepy to tell someone you loved them for the first time while in the hands of a psychotic enemy, but he and Phil had never exactly had a normal relationship.  Glancing over at Phil, because he couldn’t go more than about a minute without looking for him, Clint watched as Phil pulled a stolen t-shirt over his head, his movements hesitant and clumsy with pain, even if his face didn’t show it.

Phil always had been a stone-cold badass.

It hadn’t been hard to get themselves out of their shackles and thankfully one of the thugs had pretty much been Clint’s size.  He always appreciated it when he didn’t have to break out of an enemy base naked, if only for the pockets.  Now all he needed was weapons and they’d really be able to get out of there.

“Clint,” Phil said gently, crouching down beside him.

Blinking, Clint watched as one of Phil’s hands covered his, absently realising his hands were still shaking.  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No, Jesus, don’t be sorry,” Phil replied softly.

Strong arms wrapped around him and tugged him against Phil’s warm chest.  Clint felt the strong, steady beat of Phil’s heart and rested his palm over it for a moment because he still needed the reassurance.  Pressing his face to Phil’s shoulder, Clint squeezed his eyes shut and breathed in the scent of his lover, even mixed as it was with the smell of dirt and blood.  His hands were still shaking as he fisted them in Phil’s stolen t-shirt, a storm of shock, relief and fear raging inside him.  Phil simply held him and gently reached up to card his fingers through Clint’s hair, his voice soft and calm in Clint’s ear.

It didn’t seem to matter to him that they were slumped on the freezing concrete floor, the cold seeping in through Clint pants, chilling his already cold skin or that his battered body was crying out for sleep and water.  When Clint finally registered the words Phil was saying, he felt his hands instinctively tighten in Phil’s t-shirt.  “You’re alive,” Phil murmured.  “You’re alive and I’m going to get us out of here, I promise.”

Leaning back a little, Clint looked at him.  The relief in Phil’s eyes almost undid him; he was looking at Clint like he was the most important thing in the world -- but then Phil had _always_ done that.  Even when Clint had just been his mouthy, slightly insubordinate asset, Phil had looked at him like he _mattered_ and not because of his aim or his body, but simply because he was Clint.  Reaching up, he gently cupped Phil’s cheek, smiling slightly when Phil leaned into the touch.  “ _We’re_ alive,” Clint corrected.  “And _we’re_ going to get out of here.  Together.”

He let his smile grow a little as Phil watched him; Clint was a SHIELD agent, he knew about being captured by the enemy and he _knew_ that even after they got out of there, things weren’t magically going to be okay, but more than that, he knew that right now Phil needed him as much as Clint needed Phil.  “We should go,” Clint said, pulling away a little further.

Phil nodded.  They were still in danger.  They might have dealt with the interrogator and the thugs in the cell with them, but they still had an entire base of HYDRA goons between them and freedom and they needed to do something about that.  Clint dropped his hand from Phil’s face, trying to ignore the sense of loss that went with the absence of touch.  As always, Phil seemed to know what was going through Clint’s head almost as well as he did and Phil carefully tangled his fingers with Clint’s where he still held Clint’s hand, careful of Clint’s broken finger.

Suddenly, the moment was broken by the sudden screech of the door as someone opened it.  Clint and Phil leaped to their feet, Clint’s eyes darting around the room for a weapon, but as he’d already seen, there weren’t any.  The HYDRA soldier coming in through the door looking completely surprised to see Phil and Clint out of their chains and the bodies on the ground and Clint saw his hand go for the gun holstered on his thigh.  Clint moved on instinct, the only thing on his mind was the need to protect Phil.

Surging forward, Clint grabbed the soldier by the wrist as the soldier pulled his gun.  Slamming his shoulder into the soldier’s chest, Clint ignored the jolt of pain that went through him and used his momentum to smash the soldier’s wrist against the doorframe.  With a sharp cry, the soldier let go of the gun and it went skidding across the floor.  Clint ignored it, more worried about dealing with the HYDRA soldier before he lost his surge of adrenaline.  The soldier twisted with a curse, trying to send an elbow towards Clint’s face.  Clint caught it with his hand, grunting when the movement jolted his broken finger and sent pain arcing up his arm.  The HYDRA soldier aimed a knee for Clint’s groin and Clint staggered backwards to avoid it, almost tripping over as pain began sapping the little strength he had.

As soon as he moved away from the soldier, however, Phil acted.  The sound of the gunshot was loud in the cell and Clint spun towards him, still reacting on instinct as the soldier’s body dropped to the ground.  “Are you all right?” Phil asked a little breathlessly as he glanced over at Clint.

Mutely, Clint nodded and then blinked a few times as his vision went a little hazy.  Phil’s hand on his shoulder kept him steady.  “Come on,” Phil said.  “Someone will have heard that.  We need to go.”

Ducking out the now open door, Phil looked both ways before he turned back to Clint.  “We’re clear,” he said.

Clint nodded silently again as he moved up to stand next to Phil.  He checked the corridor himself, but he saw no sign of movement either.  “Which way?” he asked.

Phil frowned and then winced slightly.  “Left, I think,” he replied.

The corridor was grey, the paint peeling from the walls.  All along the length of it were doors, probably to cells just like the one he and Phil had been in.  Clint vaguely remembered the thugs dragging him in from a cell down the corridor to the right, but he couldn’t be completely sure of that.  He nodded to Phil anyway, because even after being beaten and chained to the ceiling, Phil was terrifyingly competent and if Phil said left was the way to go, Clint would be right behind him.

Shouts echoed down the corridor a beat later and Clint knew that their time had just run out.  Cursing, he felt Phil grab his hand and pull.  “Time to run!” he said.

Clint didn’t need to be told twice.  Gripping Phil’s hand tighter, he pushed his exhausted body into a run, pain ricocheting through him with each pounding step.

“Halt!”

The shout echoed down the corridor a second before bullets began flying their way.  Phil swore and pushed Clint in front of him, which Clint would start complaining about just as soon as people stopped shooting at them, because Phil didn’t need to hurt himself any more to save Clint, thanks very much.  Not letting go of Phil’s hand, Clint raced around a corner and at the edge of his gaze, he saw Phil turn enough to return fire.  “Got two of them,” Phil told him when he turned back around.

Clint grinned fiercely.  “You’re a total badass,” he said.

Phil gave him a dry look, but his lips did twitch as if he wanted to smile and Clint would take it.  Pulling him down the corridor, Clint started running again and away from the HYDRA soldiers still behind them.  “How many left?” he asked, because he wasn’t sure how long he could keep running and Phil looked about as bad as he felt.

“One behind us,” Phil replied, “and who knows how many between us and the door?”

“Your pessimism is showing again,” Clint quipped, glancing at Phil.  “I need a weapon.”

Phil glanced at him and then with a faint, rueful smile, offered Clint the gun he was holding, grip first.  Clint opened his mouth to say that wasn’t what he’d meant, but Phil just tugged him around a group of thick metal pipes coming out of the wall and came to a stop.  They were both panting and Phil was grimacing, which meant he was starting to feel his injuries as badly as Clint was.  “All yours,” he said.

Clint smirked, before leaning around the pipes and shooting the HYDRA soldier behind them.  Backtracking a little, they slipped down the corridor to search the body for weapons.  Clint passed Phil the gun and a few clips he’d found, keeping a spare clip for himself too.  Aside from the gun, bullets and a few knives, there wasn’t much on the body and Clint frowned.  It wouldn’t be easy to get out of there if they had to keep stopping and searching bodies for supplies and as good as they were, Clint didn’t really see them getting out of there with the supplies they had, not in the state they were in.

From there, they headed deeper into the HYDRA complex and up at least two floors.  Clint wasn’t entirely sure that Phil knew where he was going, but since Phil had a better idea than Clint did, he didn’t mention it.  They encountered a few more of the HYDRA soldiers, but now that Clint and Phil were armed, taking out the soldiers wasn’t hard.  The whole time, Phil maintained his steady grip on Clint’s hand and for that, Clint would forever be grateful.  The touch anchored him to the present and stopped his mind spinning off and thinking about all the ways things could have been worse than they were.  Clint knew from experience there would be plenty of time for that later, anyway.

A minute later, Phil slowed to an awkward stop and then abruptly dragged Clint back around the corner, out of sight, as he cursed quietly.  Clint blinked for a moment as his brain registered what he’d just seen.  He was pretty sure it had been the way out and he was also pressure sure it been guarded by about a dozen HYDRA soldiers.  “Guess we found the door,” he said softly to Phil.

“I’d have been happier if it didn’t involve shooting our way out of here,” Phil replied.

“It’s not like we haven’t done it before,” Clint quipped, smirking at Phil as he carefully checked how many bullets he had left and saw Phil doing the same.

Phil glanced up long enough to give Clint an exasperated, but warm look.  “Just because we’ve done it before, doesn’t mean I like to continually repeat the process,” he said dryly.

Clint smirked.  “I could say so many things to that,” he said.

Instead of saying them, though, he pulled Phil close again for a moment.  Phil smiled, before giving in and kissing Clint hard.  When he pulled back, he gently touched his forehead to Clint’s.  Clint decided right then and there that there was no way in hell that HYDRA was going to take this man from him.  “Ready?” Phil said.

“Right behind you,” Clint replied.  “Just like always.”

*

The pain was getting worse with every moment, but Phil was not going to give up until both he and Clint were free of the HYDRA compound, no matter who stood in their way.  A dozen HYDRA soldiers were nothing compared to that, but Phil wasn’t about to underestimate them either.  Keeping his movements as efficient as possible, he moved around the corner to shoot at the soldiers, Clint a reassuring and deadly presence at his shoulder.  Between them, they shot six of the HYDRA soldiers before they’d stopped shouting in surprise long enough to return fire.

Grunting a little when he felt the hot burn of a bullet singe the air beside his ear, Phil pulled back around the corner.  Clint ducked back a second later, panting a little and wincing a little at the movement.  “Four left,” he said.

Phil nodded.  There might only have been four HYDRA soldiers remaining between them and the exit, but Phil had a bad feeling more would be on the way.  He and Clint had to get out of here and fast.  He turned to say as much to Clint, when he heard a clatter and his eyes widened when he recognised the grenade rolling towards them along the concrete floor.  Phil’s stomach swooped down to his toes when he saw Clint bend down to scoop it up, before Clint spun and threw it back in the direction of the soldiers.

Fear stuck in his throat as Phil reached out to yank Clint back towards him by the back of his t-shirt.  Seconds later a deafening explosion blasted through the corridor.  Even protected as they were by the corner, Phil still felt the white hot heat rush and concussive wave rushed passed him, slamming him against the wall of the corridor.  Pain bloomed across his back.  He grunted as the force slammed Clint into him a second later, despite the way Clint had thrown his arm up against the wall to lessen the impact.

Glancing up, Clint met his eyes.  His arm was still caging Phil up against the wall, the other curled up between Clint’s chest and his in an attempt to protect his finger and Phil couldn’t look away.  “Thanks,” Clint said quietly, his voice rough.

Gunshots and shouts split the air a second later as the HYDRA soldiers obviously recovered from the explosion.  Clint pushed away from the wall and as if right on cue, Phil spotted two HYDRA soldiers emerging from the debris around the corner.  Whipping up his gun, he shot them both before ducking back behind the meagre remains of their cover.  There was no more time to lose.  They had to get out.  “We’re going to have to make a run for it,” he told Clint.

“Yeah,” Clint said with a nod.  “I figured.”

“On three?” Phil suggested.

“Two,” Clint said, shifting his grip on his gun.

“One,” Phil said, matching Clint’s devil-may-care smirk, before they darted around the corner.

There was twenty feet between them and the door and it was closing fast as they sprinted towards it.  The HYDRA soldiers were calling out for reinforcements as they attempted to stop Clint and Phil from escaping, but Phil hadn’t become a senior agent by being a bad shot and he had Hawkeye running next to him, so the soldiers never stood a chance.  Putting on a burst of speed, Phil forced his battered body to keep moving and felt his mouth curve into a smile of relief as he and Clint burst out of the HYDRA building into the cool night air.  There would be soldiers outside as well, he knew that, but he couldn’t help feeling the fresh air felt a lot like freedom.

Drawing on his final reserves of strength, Phil turned in the direction of the woods to the left of the building, because at least in the trees they had a chance of avoiding the HYDRA soldiers.  He was slowing down, he could feel it, and Clint wasn’t doing much better as they began to lose the advantage adrenaline had given them over their injuries.  However, before either he or Clint could make it to the trees, Phil spotted something miraculous.

Natasha Romanoff suddenly materialised from around the corner of the building like a vengeful ghost.  She had a half healed black eye and stitches adorning both her jaw and forehead, with weapons bristling from almost every inch of her graceful frame, and Phil doubted he’d ever been more glad to see her in his life.

“Nat,” Clint said from beside him in a grateful rush.

A shout jolted Phil’s attention back to the building.  “Reinforcements,” he said grimly, tightening his grip on his gun.

He didn’t need to have worried, though.  Her expression coldly calculating, Natasha dealt with the rush of reinforcements that had poured out of the building with ease and in less than five minutes they were all down.  Phil and Clint did their best to help, but the HYDRA soldiers weren’t much of a threat to the Black Widow.  Slumping half against Clint with relief, Phil watched Natasha turn towards them, grateful beyond words that she’d come to rescue them because Phil wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep standing.

Stepping right up to them, Natasha put her hand on Clint’s arm and leaned in to press her forehead to Clint’s, just like Phil had done earlier.  Phil smiled, giving Natasha a moment to reassure herself that her partner was still alive and keeping an eye out of more HYDRA soldiers, because more would no doubt be coming.  A touch on his arm jerked Phil’s attention away from the building and he blinked as he found Natasha standing in front of him.  “Coulson,” she said softly, before she gently leaned in to rest her forehead against his too.

“Natasha,” he replied softly.

Clint’s shout warned them before the ground was suddenly peppered with bullets and Phil jerked his head up even as Natasha cursed and drew her guns again.  “Run!” she yelled, shooting at the incoming HYDRA soldiers.

“What?” Clint said, looking confused, but Phil had already heard the welcoming sound of rotors beating through the air.

“The chopper,” he called out to Phil as a sleek, black helicopter swooped into view behind them.

“Now!” Natasha shouted.

Not needing to be told again, Phil grabbed Clint’s hand and started running in the direction of the hovering helicopter.  Boosting himself up with the skid, Phil grabbed the sides of the helicopter’s open door and pulled himself inside, before spinning around to help Clint.  Clint was right behind him and while the archer didn’t seem to need much help, he did grasp Phil hand tightly when Phil held it out.  Phil barely had a moment to recognise Melinda May in the pilot seat, before Natasha was vaulting into the helicopter and May sent the helicopter flying up and away from the building and the HYDRA soldiers and everything else.

Relief swamped Phil for a long few minutes.  They were finally free of HYDRA.  They were _safe_.  The tension draining out of him, Phil gratefully slumped down onto one of the helicopter’s seats as Natasha hauled the door shut, cutting off the rush of wind and the faint sound of gunfire.  Clint slumped down next to him a second later and for once, Phil didn’t protest the fact that Clint was half on top of him.  The closeness felt good.

Taking a seat opposite them, Natasha offered him a smile as Clint buried his fact in Phil’s neck.  Raising his arm, Phil pulled Clint close and smiled faintly back at Natasha.  “Sleep,” she called out, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the rotors.  “I’ll keep watch.”

His smile widening gratefully, Phil let his eyes slid shut as he curled even closer to Clint.  He was so tired, but he could already feel his brain starting to go over the questions that had plagued him when he’d first woken up the in his cell.  There would be so much to deal with when they got back to SHIELD; the questions and debriefing and then the nightmares that always came from things like this.  However, questions of why and who had betrayed them could wait.  Right now, he and Clint were _safe_.  Natasha would watch over them.

For now, they could rest.

 

Fin.


End file.
